This year the First Sunday of Advent happens to fall on the birthday of visionary poet and artist William Blake (1757-1827). And so it seems appropriate to post this poem, with its manifestation of hope in the midst of bleak reality.
I heard an Angel singing When the day was springing, “Mercy, Pity, Peace Is the world’s release.” Thus he sung all day Over the new mown hay, Till the sun went down And haycocks looked brown. I heard a Devil curse Over the heath and the furze, “Mercy could be no more, If there was nobody poor, And pity no more could be, If all were as happy as we.” At his curse the sun went down, And the heavens gave a frown. Down pour’d the heavy rain Over the new reap’d grain … And Miseries’ increase Is Mercy, Pity, Peace.—William Blake